


Pressed to Your Scars

by Kitsune_Heart



Category: Castle
Genre: Blanket Permission, Erotica, F/M, Guns, Podfic Welcome, Power Play, kink bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-28
Updated: 2012-07-28
Packaged: 2017-11-10 21:52:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/471099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsune_Heart/pseuds/Kitsune_Heart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a week into their new relationship when Castle finally figures out Beckett's secret kink, and it's sort of shocking, and he entirely approves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pressed to Your Scars

**Author's Note:**

> This fulfills my kink bingo prompt 38, guns/blades.

It's a week into their new relationship when Castle finally figures out Beckett's secret kink, and it's sort of shocking, and he entirely approves.

She's riding him late one night, her jaw clenched, trying to keep in those little moans she hadn't hidden on their first night—only now doing so in deference to the two other occupants of the apartment—and her tension is just perfect. He knows she's close and she won't be able to stop, though she doesn't change her pace as she flexes her legs to bring herself up before pushing on his chest as she falls back down, spearing herself with his cock. He's just watching her, keeping a grip on her thighs, moving in time with her. She's glorious. Her hair is damp and sticks to her temples, and there's a red flush across her breasts as she comes closer and closer to orgasm, and he just wants her to make one _little_ sound—his name, preferably—as she finishes for the second time that night.

And then one of her hands leaves his chest, going into a loose fist at her right hip, and Castle's brows shoot up as he  _gets_ it.

Though he temporarily  _loses_ it when she  _does_ say his name—last, as usual—and her walls clamp down on him, taking him off guard, making him spill into her far sooner than he'd intended.

So he's got an idea. And it seems like a  _really_ bad idea, but he's having a hard time reminding his genitals that what he has planned is something that would prompt the large majority of women to call the cops. But Kate  _is_ the cops. Or was. And she's a big girl, and of course she can take care of herself. Really, the only risk here is that she  _will_ take care of herself, and Castle is going to have to finally use that ridiculously expensive health insurance plan his daughter insisted he get when he started following the detective.

He's smart enough to wait until they have the apartment to themselves. Kate returns from another day of job interviews, and she's stripping off her own clothes before the front door is completely latched, though Castle doesn't think it's entirely because she's eager to fall into bed with him. She dressed well in the precinct, but the addition of formal blazers and high heels hasn't been taken without complaint on her part, even if she does appreciate her lover taking advantage of every second that her ass is formed into wild curves by the shoes.

No preamble. She's pulling him into the bedroom, and Castle is grinning around her kisses, thankful that she's chosen that option, since his one supply is there. Kate's used to his general cockiness, so she doesn't question the grin, but instead breaks it by licking his lips until they part and her tongue can slide in, the very tip flicking against his own, that little touch far better than any full-on thrust and slide in his mouth.

He's still got his pants on when they fall into bed, though Beckett has managed to get down to her bra and panties, which are made of a lace that would be completely mouth-watering if they weren't emergency-cone orange. He's got no clue where Kate finds her clothes, but Castle makes a mental note to gift her something a bit more complementary to her skin tone. In the meantime, he just ignores the tangerine glare as he guides the woman onto her back and pulls one cup down so he can run his tongue  _around_ her nipple, but not directly  _over_ it.

“Dammit, Castle,” Kate hisses, arching her back so that the areola of her other breast begins to peak out from the lace. “Not tonight. Don't  _tease_ me tonight!”

He actually does look up at her and roll his eyes, because she's never  _requested_ he tease her, but it's what she gets, most of the time. Castle has been with enough women to know what Kate really wants, even if she doesn't say, or even if she outright denies her needs. That's why he's sure that what he has planned tonight is something in which Kate has never indulged. No cop would dare bring it up. Especially not one with a twisted mark on her chest from where the bullet went in.

He's got to get her a bit more worked up before she's going to even consider the idea, so he obliges enough to slide a hand under Kate's spine, her back arching compliantly so he can unsnap the bra and get rid of at least one half of her poor fashion choice. He attacks her freed breasts, only briefly continuing his avoidance of her nipples, just to increase the woman's ire, and then shattering the prohibition when he brings one into his mouth, tongue rapidly flicking the bud until Beckett yelps, her breasts shaking from her hard breaths.

“Got a surprise for you,” Castle murmurs as he switches nipples and brings his hand up between the woman's legs, rubbing at her through the thin cotton.

Kate laughs, looking down at him through unfocused eyes. “I like your surprises,” she manages, sounding mostly intelligent.

Castle chuckles, briefly losing contact with her skin. She does, indeed. It's been a fun week. “Keep that in mind?” He lifts his pitch at the end of the sentence, making it both question and request.

It makes her wary, but she doesn't question him. Just waits.

He gathers his courage—and it's a lot more courage than was ever needed when he ran into an unsecured room during their investigations—and reaches under the pillows.

What he takes out is heavy and dark black and only a little warmer than it would have been if he'd left it out in the open air of the chilly apartment, and he makes a childish—and probably stupid—decision to press the metal against Beckett's upper arm.

She jolts at the cold and looks down...and  _lunges_ away, half out from under the writer as she screams at him, “What the  _fuck_ , Castle!?”

She has not taken the gun away and used it on his head. Already things are going better than he'd hoped. “I thought—”

“Is that thing  _loaded?_ ” She demands, reaching for the SIG P266, body tensing even further as Castle snatches it away.

He holds it close to his body, making sure the barrel is pointed at the wall, for that slight comfort it could give.

And he asks, very carefully, looking Kate in the eyes, “Do you  _want_ it to be?”

She doesn't react. Not beyond letting their gazes meet for just a moment, swiftly returning hers to the gun.

Castle lets a smile spread slowly across his face, because there's a red flush appearing at her collarbone, spreading slowly down towards her breasts. No doubt, it is  _working_ . 

“Kate,” he says, cajoling.

She brings her eyes back to his, face stony.

“Do you... _want_ it to be?” Castle asks again, quieter, and slowly turns the barrel of the gun to point at Kate's chest. Right at the thick mark of her scar. Eyes locked to hers, he takes off the safety lock.

And, gently, he restarts the gentle stroking at her panties.

He's holding the gun loosely. Yes, his finger is on the trigger, but she could knock the barrel away before he could tense up for the shot. At most, maybe he'd graze her shoulder. If she's any kind of police officer, she'll disarm him, have him out cold a half-second later, and locked up in the precinct before the day-shift leaves.

Kate closes her eyes, thin throat flexing as she swallows, and Castle's smile turns to a full-blown smirk. Bad cop. Taking her eyes off a gun.

He leans in, connecting his lips to hers, using the pressure between them to encourage her to open her mouth as he himself does, slipping his tongue inside when she complies. No hesitation there and, beneath his fingers and through orange cotton, he can feel a sudden rise in heat and warmth.

Arms weakening, Kate began to sink back to the bed, and Castle follows her, his knees coming up between her legs, spreading her wide. In the same moment that he pulls her panties to the side and slides a finger into her growing wetness, he presses the cold barrel of the gun to her scar.

There is an immediate clench around his fingers, which Castle wouldn't have expected until the detective was far closer to orgasm, and he murmurs approval, breaking their lips apart so he can kiss across her jaw and to her ear and the crook of her neck. “You either really trust me...or you have absolutely no instinct for self-preservation.” He bites her shoulder, hard, making sure any mark would be hidden by her interview outfit, but also making  _damned_ sure she is bruised.

She rolls her hips along with the thrusting of his fingers, occasionally twitching, angling her pelvis down, trying to get a brush along her clitoris, huffing in frustration when he twists his hands just enough to both flaunt her efforts and hit some spot inside her that is _nearly_ as satisfying.

He doesn't want to talk, much. If he does, he's probably going to warn her about every little move, and it's not what she'd want, if she could admit to wanting any of this. So he continues biting and kissing, moving down her body, shifting the gun as he goes. Leaving the scar, tracing down her sternum. Over the softest flesh of her stomach. Pressing it deep into her belly-button. Then coming out, not quite lifting enough to pop the barrel free, so her skin is dragged along until the flesh around her tight abs reaches its limit and jerks free, the small bit of fat above her vulva briefly quivering.

Then he moves the Sig quickly over her vulva, slipping under the hem of Kate's panties, and pressing just  _there_ , right on her clit, and the woman cries out, jerking violently, her pussy once more clenching on Rick's fingers.

He's very careful, using the little bump of the trigger to manipulate Kate's clitoris, but it's difficult and he can't match up the movements of his fingers with that of his wrist, so there's no real rhythm. It doesn't seem to matter, though, because Beckett is out of control. She's calling his name—both parts, in no logical order—and Rick decides the best reward for that is to take his mouth from her shoulder and bring it down to her breast, once more taking her nipple between his lips, sucking and licking, harder than before, his fingers pumping her mercilessly.

“R-Riiiick, I'm...make me....” She begins the request, and her need is obvious enough that he doesn't need any clarification. But she doesn't need anything beyond what he's giving her, because he's building her up, fingers wet and twisting as he thrusts in, mouth harsh but skilled, and the gun cold as it presses to her clit until, suddenly, she tenses and, with a few more pumps of his fingers, she's over the edge, screaming, pussy squeezing and flooding over his hand and the barrel of the gun.

He keeps it up until she's twitching and almost laughing, and then he knows to pull the gun back, relieving her delicate clit of the sensations.

She seems to just _melt_ as the orgasm winds down and the weapon is taken away. It's almost cute, how she looks up at him with unfocused eyes. He half expects her to yawn, stretch like a little kitten, and fall asleep, though previous experience tells him that she's barely begun.

It's been a bit much for him, though, and Castle rolls off the woman, letting her close her legs again, hips twisting slowly so her folds can gently rub her clit, her own touch far easier to take than his, bringing with it a few more pulses of pleasure.

He flops to his back, pushing the arm closest to Beckett under her shoulders, pulling her onto his chest.

This also happens to be the hand holding the gun, so he's not at all surprised when it's wrested from his fingers and she does a quick inspection, pressing the magazine release and grunting when nothing pops out, her fingers finding the butt of the gun hollow. Then she pulls the slide back and looks into the chamber, also finding it empty.

Kate looks up at her lover, frowning, brows drawn tight.

“What?” he protests, jostling her as he shrugs. “Do you  _want_ it to be loaded?”

She looks back at the gun and slowly shakes her head, though she says nothing.

Castle decides to let her have some time to decide if she's shaking her head at his question or at herself. It's not something they can talk about, really.

So, since her mouth isn't going to be busy, he decides to practice good time management, cupping his palm around the back of her neck and guiding the detective down his body, relaxing into the pillows when she gets to work without being asked.

Though, yeah, he's a bit unnerved by the cold steel against his balls. Kate's the one with the kink, so it just means he takes nearly twice as long to finish as normal.

Not at all a bad thing, though, when it's Kate's mouth he gets to finish in.

Just so long as she never figures out where he hides the bullets.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: So I get this really weird vibe from Castle in this fic, and I can't quite shake it. Kind of misogynistic, which is especially glaring when you consider he's a fairly egalitarian character. Though I suppose it's kind of hard to write any man gun-fucking a woman and not have it sound like there's a power imbalance.


End file.
